To all ye who enter... Her

Now that sounds really physical and graphic, 

but I'm telling you right now; it's not. 

You will spot her in a common place whether it be your dreams or a crowded corridor,

and something about her will catch your eye before she had the chance to hide.

You might tell her hey, but most of your time is absorbed

in silently asmiring what could be considered yours,

but won't be until you see more of her. 

So you go aout peeling her petals back, 

and she's not saying no, 

but you'll never get that flat-out yes until you ask for it.

But that feeling of being able to be a bud amongst nothing else began to aid her in

her quest of finding herself, 

and somehow she starts to think that you too,

could be the missing part of herself that she was so close to finding. 

And for two split and fleeting seconds, you were. 

You entered her life, but once you got the memo that 

she would of course allow you into her mind and body, you let her leave you there.

And she was crying, just trying, to keep you close but you couldn't stay any longer. 

I would like to explain to you what you should have done before infiltrating what you didn't think could be a sacred place, 

but will prove to be your only safe haven when everyone else leaves.

I would like you to know that after you leave her,

she will never let you back in because

she will push you so far from her without so much as touching you. 

I would like you to know that these small details matter, but telling you about them

won't because you've already started on your path and you'll never see the consequences in your stopping. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

Glad I didn't cancel

So then for a while I went to the depressed place,

and it was definitely a trip that I took souvenirs from

(my arm could tell you better than I could to be perfectly honest)

as I always do. 

My mother taught me to be obedient as well as sentimental,

so I learned to relish in the unspoken rules of what's too fucked up,

and I learned to miss being the happy-go-lucky that I always thought was possible. 

And I'm not saying that it was soley you that drove me to this warranted abandon,

but rather I had scheduled an appointment with my depression and 

then right before it I realized that happiness had been booked right before it 

and I didn't really need to visit my sadness in the depth that I had. 

It was an overdue physical, if you will,

except none of my reflexes were up to par

and my body was being quite literally torn to shreds. 

I became someone that I had been fighting for a really long time,

and I'm happy that I stopped fighting her.

Sure, I have some new scars that I can name like the seven dwarves but scarier,

but perhaps now I can be the snow white that stays clean. 

I realized that I was tired of fighting, 

and that my life should be more than the day to day struggle of 

which version of myself I woke up as that morning. 

I am me, and I am a dark ugly, terrifyingly beautiful mess.

I can't quite explain that to society as I would here,

but having finally concluded my unhealthy check-up,

I think that I can walk into a bar and break all of the bottles

just to ensure that the place, not the people, 

not the people, were wasted away. 

It feels like a great time to forget who I was,

and everything that I looked up to,

just to glance forward for longer that I would look into your eyes and see 

all of the damage that I had done to myself for the sake of hating. 

I will turn the dial on the electric stopwatch of a heart that you left me with,

and it will take me  where I need to go for the time that I need to be there

until I can afford to take on a new one that runs on a more organic fuel that my tears. 

I'm so glad that you took up your physician's offer on your check-up,

but for once, I don't particularly hope that it went too well.

While I had to make sure that I was still breathing, 

you were making sure that your khakis still fit just right.

I'm so glad that your hair is fixed just the right way,

and that I'll never bump into at the hospital. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

And so she stopped asking

For the longest while,

there had been questions itching at the silken surface just beneath my tongue.

And having gotten wind of the fact that I, as only one person,

am not allowed to know everything, and that's a good thing 

allow those questions to fester for longer than they should.

But eventually,

I shook them off my shagged tongue like the stiff, sandy beach towel that it is. 

And so I asked the world who I was and it did more than show me. 

See, the thing I've realized about asking questions is that

the world will give you the whirlwind of answers that you seek, 

and the persons that people said world

need not tell you the answer in order to explain it clearly. 

I asked the world where it was that I was meant to be going,

and for the longest time it led me to believe that my destination was nowhere.

Not because it was the answer to my question,

but because it was a question that the earth would ask of its people.

And eventually I would find myself not satisfied with nowhere,

but nowhere in particular. 

It is not the world that molds our path, but rather 

the people who stand in our way just to show us where the walls in our minds are. 

The sights and sounds are the only necessary answers

to questions that should not be asked,

but will continue to be pondered for as long

as people refuse to clear their ears and wipe the doubt from their eyes. 

The world bejewels itself as a woman scorned 

through the wrath of veins that man brands into her body every day. 

From the unadorned simplicity found in her lack of curiosity,

she could have wandered the galaxy for ages without a single thought. 

She is spoiled rotten by seas that we drown in

while trying to simply see into one another. 

The questions that she asks are answered,

and that in it of itself will not satisfy the ravenous hunger of her molten core. 

For the answers do not exist for her satisfaction,

but rather to keep life droning on.

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

It was a one beer too many before it all kind of just burned

And so I was making my way into my car and I was just thinking about the myriad of ways that one could explain that something was utterly destroyed, 

when of course out of nowhere, 

this freak of a tree crashes into a building and demolishes it. 

Worse than than that guy that always goes bar jumping and then heads to his last stop,

not even knowing that it's his last stop.

This tree was that one train wreck from high school that everyone knew had home issues 

and probably could have benefitted from some quality therapy,

but would never get it because he didn't have the time 

and then ended up crashing his car into

a different tree than this one because he stopped sleeping.

Well, we might not all know of that one guy because

I'm betting that a lot more of us than we care to admit were that guy.  

Anyway, I think someone was already calling 911,

and it sounds really crappy, 

but I was kind of glad that it wasn't me. 

I mean, here I was watching this horrifying fire

not doing anything and that sounds terrible, 

but I think if I had tried to get help,

the conversation would start with the operator asking what the emergency was 

and I would start talking about the fact that

I have a perpetual fear of my teeth looking terrible because

whenever I would look at my father's smile I was constantly disgusted

but also how at the dentist last Tuesday I realized that it wasn't just because of his teeth. 

But none of that helps this terror in front of me, 

and neither do I with my seatbelt still fully fastened around my chest and 

my hesitant hands almost (but not really)

trying to release it from the forever-binding buckle.

I guess I'm not the best person to contact in these kinds of emergencies, 

but I've been told that when you have a really shitty Tuesday afternoon 

I can be of some help depending on how shitty it really was because 

after a while a shitty Tuesday afternoon metamorphasizes

into this massive obstruction of justice that I so happen to still be watching in fascination.

Some girls have "Grey's", and I have this hayfever of a circus act,

one disaster falling atop of another. 

Oh that reminds me, 

I have to make an appointment to talk about uncomfortable topics

that I don't even talk to myself about 

because apparently I'm supposed to not have taboo thoughts?

But I suppose the people in this burning tavern wish

that they still had appointments to make.

And after this brief pause of thought,

I realized that I hadn't blinked in eight minutes and I was tearing up.

So I shook all of this out through my ears, 

and I started up my car and hoped that someone else took the time to turn theirs off. 

-Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

That one time that I went to the gym (voluntarily)

I tried exercise for the first time last Thursday.

I can safely say, I will never understand your obsession with it. 

To get my heart going that fast, 

I need only think about if I left the curling iron on at home,

or the different paths that my life will take before inevitably ending in

complete and utter disaster. 

And to have myself this sore, 

I can do laps around the same embarrassing thing that I did that one time

that I just kind of stopped discussing because there are still so many things about me

that I don't even let ME talk abou anymore. 

And to sweat this much,

there's the fact that things could come flying apart at any given moment,

regardless of any reassurance from you that they won't. 

And to have to shower for this long,

I need only remember that I can never wash my brain enough to 

forget the scratch marks that you left on what used to be rosehips, 

but are now fortresses of thorns and thistles that you water 

each time you avoid my eyes. 

And shopping for those clingy outfits that somehow make the whole endeavor easier

just to be reminded of the fact that no amount of money can pay for the damages 

to my ribs when you ripped out whatever you could find in one swift plunge of your hand. 

And all of a sudden I wondered why anyone would do this at all to begin with.

The shape of my body would improve only as my thoughts became

more and more distorted until they seemed as though they were beaten to a bloody pulp. 

All of these side effects began to worry me. 

So I asked someone who seemed to be into this type of thing, 

and I never got a clear answer as he gestured generously to his abs. 

But, as someone with the ability to extrapolate data sucessully, 

I think that the process is what does it for you. 

The chisled physique is worth all of the ache,

all for the sake of appearances. Huh.


I've never been the ideal beauty,

but for the most part, my life's been pretty happy without paying attention to that fact.

So later on that week, 

I drove to the gym (regretably, because I live within walking distance of it),

and I cancelled my membership.

New Year's resolution be damned, 

I'd never been so glad to be unhealthy in my life. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

My own two hands

By this point, 

I'm almost positive that I was born in the right era. 

Although I love the light touches of a past that was never meant to be mine, 

I created my own self from the scraps of both. 

Equally beautiful, and both happening simultaneously.

When I matter most to those I thought that I valued, 

all will be too late and forgiven for the sake of preserved time. 

And when I exit this terror,

I hope that there won't be too much speculation of what I've done.

I will have done what was best for me, 

for it is not my duty as one cell in the sea to constantly see the whole collective ocean.

That mass of gorgeous water is not in my juristiction of control.

I do not feel half of the nerves that I used to hit on tables when I pass by bolders,

and I see no use in the marveling of the branches that test the viscosity of my skin.

I will have grown a new coat to keep my bones whole and warm.

I do not long for the journey to be completely over yet,

but I can no longer ignore the brief pauses that I've taken along the way,

This is no longer a life that I can live ignoring the things that I've done.

They may not have been much in the grand scheme of things, 

for I don't long to make the most recognizable mark on the world,

but I now know that I am capable of both great and greatly terrible things.

And with my two hands, I can mend the majority of them, or at least try to,

but I can only patch over the same hole so many times

before the guilty looking plaster begins to frown back at me. 

As I'm taking my last breaths in this unforgiving and perpetually distant air,

I am savoring the elevation of my chest,

because I have no idea how many more times I'll be able to do that.

In this era of various discovery,

I will know things that it will take decades for others to stumble upon by chance, 

and others will be privy to my dizziest daydreams that I may not ever know about.

At this point in time, 

I am completely sure that I am meant to be here.

I don't particularly care why, for that is not part of the plot that I write.

In fact, and plot that I think of is part of another, 

that will weave itself amongst the other millions that go undocumented, 

and make itself at home with the woodwork that may never come to fruition.

I will not put the rest of my life in a box labeled "expectations" with a strip of tape,

and I will not label it at all. 

What I will do and what I have done will overlap like blades in ice,

and perhaps I just won't see the zamboni

before swerving over my own cookie cut-out mistakes.

I will create the most pristine lines on my way to wherever it is will soothe my heart a bit

from the cold that I've let in through leaving the door ajar

with the hope that fresh air would stop me from falling ill.

Nothing is preventable,

and events that were meant to happen will unfold as they may. 

The present is a destiny in and of itself, 

just as the past was meant to occur the way that it did,

it's predecessor must follow the same rules. 

Perhaps at some point, 

I should make a hand-turkey, 

just to resize the damage that I can do, 

and consider before I go in with fingers painted red on a nearly alabaster canvas. 

They are little devils getting themselves into different colors

that I once thought would work.

And for the briefest of moments, they did. 

Orange and green aren't the best combination,

however I still think that the right two shades at the exact same time would be amazing. 

But at the same time, 

I'm not that much of an artist in this sense,

and this isn't my home field. 

I lurk in darkened corners and despicable hallways still,

and after I'm able to leave there,

perhaps I might change my mind-set. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace. 

It all fell to somewhere anyway

He wrote it for her, 

and it was everything that I would have expected from him. 

He wrote the magnum opus to their demise as a unit,

and somehow took all of it back in one fell swoop of his wrist. 

Perhaps it wasn't something that I should have exposed myself to for the time being,

but it's in my mind,

my anxious, constantly processing mind, 

that there will never be a way to recover the lost ground of

a heart lost in such disarray and debris. 

I went down with it like the sinking ship that I myself would soon lead into the ground,

my captain's hat clawing significance as though there were any to begin with.

Such a panic in one soul to behold. 

The wreckage of something that promised to be amazing, 

and worth all of the waiting done before. 

I watched it carefully like a falling leaf that no one bothered to pay enough attention to 

because they had their own breezes to hide from,

God forbid they throw caution to the wind that would take them someplace

all worth the risk.

But I digress,

he wrote it for her with the passion of a thousand suns and the fury of

the hounds of hell combined. 

He took their story and orchestrated it in his mind

using what he knew that he didn't have enough of

to fully emote what everyone already knew. 

He didn't have to, but it was a tale for the ages,

a true sight to behold with all of the silk and red sin of the goriest wars to be fought.

Somehow without even throwing the first punch,

al of it was over and the ambulance arrived without even the faintest whisper to be heard. 

I read it as though it would be the last thing that I did because with that note, 

a good part of him died, 

and I allowed my thoughts to travel down the rabbit hole with him as he drowned.

I felt all of the pain right along with him through this one sheet of paper

that I don't even think he cared to show anyone else.

I'm not sure if I wished that he did.

For after that one slip of parchment, a field of rotten roses that would have, 

on any other day, 

spelled out her name in their crimson glow,

fell from the ceiling that I never trusted anyway.

And all of this had only made me yearn

for the collapsing of the ground that I had always trusted far too well. 

Human Dignity + Compassion = Peace.